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[This story is very old. It gets better as it becomes more current. The next few chapters are a bit confusing but if you stick with it things will get better. It was originally rated M on fictionpress but I'm editing it down for gaia.]
Warning: Cursing, implied sex, confusingness
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Prologue
Time stops.
If life were a movie, there would be a close-up of the student body. Girls would prance about in tiny skirts and boys would make crude hand gestures. The geeks would huddle around their laptops and the freaks would hide in their corners. Were life a movie, the camera would then zoom in on the face of me-- the unnoticed, unspectacular protagonist.
However, this is not a movie. It is real life.
“Cliché. Perfection has become too ordinary. Admired and marveled on television, it is often mistaken for actual, plausible truth. Pretty girls with perfect lives, perfect bodies, and perfect personalities put on perfect smiles, whilst living out their oh-so-perfect upper-middle class drama-filled lives. Supposedly, the biggest geek in school is an orchid among daisies and the dumb-brained jock has a sweet poetic side. Supposedly, with the simple joining of two unlikely souls comes the obliteration of all stereotypes.
Cliché.
Supposedly, there is little more than blonde hair and big tits to the bitchy head-cheerleader, who is indefinitely pure evil. Supposedly, the flamboyant gay guy is always flamboyant and nearly always sports a bright pink cap, a pair of khaki pants, and a sweater-vest. Freaks are not freaks. The school reject is hot. Blonde-haired woman equals stupid.
Here’s a news flash for all you incoming freshman: Wake up! This is not fantasyland. There are no fluffy unicorns here, the teachers suck, and you WILL be stereotyped. Welcome to Vatican High school. Pep-rallies are dangerous for freshies, homecoming music is almost purely rap, and the jocks are anything but poetic. Have fun. You are officially Vatican Vampires.”
As the peppy voice faded into the background, Mrs. Sparks glanced away from the intercom and over her class. In the back, a few miscellaneous students read silently, crouched low in their seats. Mixed among them were hooligans, tossing paper balls and cackling rowdily. The students in the front of the room sat straight-backed and attentive, waiting for instruction whilst the ones in the middle whispered quietly… or as quiet as a room of thirty seniors could whisper. All of them had heard the slightly- comical announcement before. No one could bother to care. Mrs. Sparks considered her self quite lenient. She decided not to bother going over pointless rules and regulations that would only give her students, and herself, a headache. She had never been a fan of masochism and reading over that damn handbook again would be just that.
Already, she could point out which students would be a problem and which would not. Ernie Wilson sat alert, front and center. His hands twitched nervously as he fiddled with the cuffs of his sleeves. Already, she could make out the sheen of sweat forming along his forehead. A salty drop manifested along the wrinkled ridge of his creased brow, trailed down the length of his pointed nose, and dripped onto his desk.
She tried not to wince.
In the back, Austin Davis joked loudly with his jock friends, conversing in a clipped dull tone. He wasn’t smart. He never would be. However, cheating would keep him on the football team. He was, after all, their star quarterback.
Then, there was sweet little Chael Amadeus, reading serenely right next to Austin. She wondered how the poor boy managed. Through everything, he remained focused and intent on staying unnoticed, fading into the background.
Yes. That’s right. You could call me psychic, but I would wave it off. It’s simple to read the mind of a teacher when you just happen to be ‘teacher’s pet’. I glance up at her over the peak of my book. She flashes me a gentle, pitying smile-- eyes soft with worry. Occasionally, Austin spares me a troubled, fleeting look. This may not have been enough to catch notice, but it was enough to irritate me.
I guess I should start from the beginning. . .
I loved my best friend. Actually, come to think of it, I suppose the correct phrasing would be, “I loved my ex-best-friend”, “I loved my sister’s boyfriend.”, or “I loved my sister’s worst enemy.” A few people dared to believe that I should have been on his arm that night instead of her. We’d had it all planned out. It would have been the prank of a century and the only suitable excuse for remaining undetached during the Junior-Senior Prom.
Two guys and one prank... just a prank.
However, somewhere along the line I forgot that the prank was just some hair-brained scheme we had concocted whilst drunk off our asses. It somehow transformed into an elaborate plot of epic proportions. It contained a purpose, a blueprint, and the entire objective of this year. We wanted others to remember us. We needed to live on within the walls of Vatican High School. Now, it sounds stupid. However, at the time it wasn’t.
Not to us.
A note lands in the center of my desk. It’s a simple paper-football design-- totally Austin. He gives me another one of those fleeting looks before returning to his friends-- back turned. Blaming Austin is unfair, I know, but I cannot very well fault my own sister for what occurred last year. My fingers scoop up the miniscule triangle, carefully peeling it open.
‘Dude, I’m sorry. I did not know you were so stingy about your sister, man. I should’ve told you I was into her when the whole thing started. I’m sorry, man. Friends?’
I want to nod. I want to smile and forget anything ever happened. However, Austin doesn’t understand. There is so much more to the whole ordeal than just him dating my sister. I want to tell him, but I know I can’t. It was less than a year ago when this started. It hasn’t ended. I can’t let it go.
I shake my head.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ I mouth.
He cocks an eyebrow, puzzled.
I refuse to respond and continue with my book.
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